


A Night in Queenscliff

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Awkward First Times, Awkward Sex, F/M, First Time, How did this even happen?, I was never going to do that, OMG I made smut, Queenscliff, Smut, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: Phryne and Jack have just made it back to the beach after having dropped off the pier in Queenscliff.“I cannot decide, Jack,” – her voice made that clicking sound she sometimes did when she pronounced his name – “if you are more soaked or more on fire right now.”Happy happy birthday, Fire_Sign - I tried to write some Phrack smut for you! ❤️️





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/gifts).



> I have proclaimed - many times - that I’ll never ever write smut. Fire_Sign just laughed at me and challenged me to do it.
> 
> So, my idea for a gift for her birthday was to write Very Awkward Phrack. That isn’t exactly what it turned out to be, I lost the more joking part of it, even if I hope there is still awkwardness left. And I _think_ it might even have turned into ‘E’ – something _noone_ would have thought three weeks ago.

_Ours is essentially a tragic age,  
so we refuse to take it tragically. _

 

He was on fire. Every single nerve end seemed to be alive, sensing her closeness, screaming for him to do something, anything, that involved touching her. It was an odd sensation when you were completely drenched, standing on a beach in the warm night, trying to calm your breath after having swum and waded back to land. 

They had dropped from the pier after having managed to overhear what they needed to know for the case. Phryne had simply let go and Jack had no choice but to follow. He would follow her anywhere, really.

She had a definite advantage in the way her clothes were not heavy enough to inhibit her swimming. He, on the other hand, felt thrice his own weight with the soaked three-piece suit and coat dragging him down. He made it to the shore sometime after her, having salvaged the black beret she had lost while swimming. He waded towards her sitting on the sand, close by the pier, casually hugging her knees and watching him.

“Your beret,” he proclaimed and held it out to her, water cascading from his overcoat as he walked.

She stood up to accept the hat from his hands. He had trouble not staring at her – when she moved her black coat opened to reveal her white blouse and trousers turned completely see-through from wetness. He could hear her earlier quip in his mind’s ear: _I’ll wear less next time._

“You are a hero in disguise, rescuing my millinery like that,” she said, smiling at him and starting to put the beret on. 

He just stood there looking at her. He held his breath as she fiddled with her beret with raised arms, a pose that made her clothes cling to her body in a very... conscientious way. He knew she could read him like an open book. Even now, when she wasn’t looking at him, she probably interpreted his thoughts simply by how he breathed.

She turned and took a few steps closer to come flush to him; far too close for comfort, her hand reaching out to touch his upper arm. 

“I cannot decide, Jack,” – her voice made that clicking sound she sometimes did when she pronounced his name – “if you are more soaked or more on fire right now.”

She had never been that blatant, and his body responded like an errand boy to a whistle. His cock sprang up between them, straining against his wet trousers, and from her glance down he knew she had noticed. She met his eyes again and it looked like she counted silently: one, two, three, four, five. She hadn’t made it to more than six when she had his lips on hers.

He had not formed this thought rationally and carefully, as he usually did. He hadn’t weighed different outcomes and decided on which action to take. His desire simply overruled his consciousness and he gave in. “I give in,” he even articulated in his head, as he wrapped his arms around her, and it made him smile in the middle of the kiss.

He felt her lips, slightly salty from the sea, and her tongue welcoming him, and the whole of her wet body pressing against him. The moisture and the taste of her made him light-headed. He was kissing Phryne Fisher. Just like that. He inveigled his hands beneath her coat to grab her waist and press her more firmly to him; then, just to change tactics, he let one hand grapple for her ass instead, sinking his fingers into her soft flesh, kneading and teasing. When she huffed into his mouth in surprise, his smile turned into a smirk. She broke the kiss and looked searchingly at him – absorbing that bold smirk of his, admiring that this was the way he looked when he finally kissed her. Turning the tables on him, she reached down and cupped him, slightly harder than would have been completely gracious. He drew in his breath and huffed back at her, which made her smirk in return.

What was he supposed to do? He had to respond to such open mockery, hadn’t he? He felt a slight tinge of anger touch him and it only made him harder. He retaliated by crushing his lips more thoroughly against hers, letting his tongue take on a more dominant search; the sigh from her told him it was not unwelcome. Until she bit his lower lip – he pulled away but she wouldn’t allow it, instead she followed him, put her hand in his hair and captured his mouth as heatedly as before, taking over the steering of the dance. She still had the other hand over his confined erection, and she increased the pressure to get a sound from him. She did. A rather longing sound of intense torment.

He felled her. Not harshly but very decisively he lowered her to the beach without ceasing the kiss, his hand at the back of her head and her waist to soften the impact. 

“Jack!” she exhaled into his mouth, smiling and a little incredulous. 

He greedily inhaled his name and attacked her mouth even more urgently, happy to have surprised her. His hand fumbled to get in between her blouse and her skin. It took more time than he would have liked, and he hoped he wouldn’t come across as too unskilled. He caressed the skin at her waist, moving upwards, the softness he expected from her somewhat decreased by the sea water and the sand that had made its way there. 

So far, Jack had gone on instinct. The sand made him jolt out of his easy reverie, becoming aware of what he was doing – obviously seducing Phryne Fisher, the most experienced lover in his acquaintance, and on a public beach no less.

His hand had just reached her breast under the blouse when he broke the kiss.

“I’m sorr–” he started.

He didn’t get further before she captured his lips to stop him from talking. A moment after, he managed an “I didn’t–” before being muffled again. 

At the third attempt’s “I can’t–” Phryne didn’t put her mouth, but instead her hand over his lips. She hissed, “You are _not_ getting out of this now, Jack. It’s too late for regrets.”

He looked at her, his eyes widening at her words, and he could see she wondered if she had overstepped. It took a second before she could feel his smile forming against the palm of her hand. Before she could breathe out in relief, he bit her palm and then took her hand and pulled it away so he could renew his attempts at devouring her mouth. 

He rucked up her blouse, which made her smile and raise her body to help him. Then he pulled down her camisole to free one breast. He kissed it tenderly a few times before putting his whole mouth over her nipple, sucking and licking it, just to pull away and splutter with a grimace. 

Phryne, who had just closed her eyes, opened them again. He put his fingers on his tongue as if to rid himself of something, only to make an even worse grimace. 

“Sand,” he said. “And salt.”

Her eyes were dilated, but she quickly came back to the real world. 

“Damn it,” he heard her say quietly, laying her head back and looking up into the dark sky.

He spit apologetically several times, then laid down beside her again, covering her partly with his body. He captured her mouth, more gently this time, and smoothed down her blouse to cover her bared torso. She caressed his neck, trailing her hand down the wet coat over his back, playfully grabbing his behind. She tried to get beneath his coat but it was too heavy and too thick, and she couldn’t manage. Instead she settled for pressing her thigh against his groin, and enjoyed the strangled sound he made.

“Jack,” she said. “What do you say about relocating to the house?”

 

***

 

_The cataclysm has happened,_  
_we are among the ruins,_  
_we start to build up new little habitats,_  
_to have new little hopes._

 

As they walked back to Mrs McNaster’s house, casually side by side as if she hadn’t just kissed him breathless, Jack realised the stakes were getting higher. To come to her room now would be so deliberate, compared to just happening to make out on the beach after a surprise dip. He looked at her, the easiness with which she walked and talked, how her clothes still clung to her under the coat and occasionally flashed him with parts of her he never usually got to see. It didn’t seem to bother her. When they arrived at the house, Phryne grabbed his hand and simply said: 

“There is no escaping now, Inspector Robinson. The walls have already crumbled.”

He looked at her eyes, first the one and then the other. He swallowed hard and nodded almost imperceptibly. 

In her room, they quickly discarded their clothes, hanging them as best they could over chairs and tables. Jack only felt a small pang of self-consciousness when he removed his smalls. Phryne shooed him into the shower, and took over when he was done. 

When he had dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist, Jack didn’t know what to do with himself. Lie down in the bed to wait for her? He blushed just from the thought of such ... presumption. Sit in one of the chairs, reclining on their wet clothes? That would be laughable. He sat down on the side of the bed, knowing that he looked ready to startle from the slightest sound. That wouldn’t do. Finally, he decided to just stand there. When a dry and naked Phryne came out from the bathroom she almost walked straight into him. He captured her by her waist. That was at least one awkward choice he wouldn’t need to make. 

She laughed and put her arms around his neck. He admired her lithe body and what her body posture did to her curves and peaks as she leaned up to kiss him. She took hold of the towel around his waist and pulled it away. Then she let go of him and critically examined his now rather limp cock. 

“It seems we need to put in a bit more work here,” she said. 

Just the sight of her wicked smile made him half hard. She caressed his member lovingly, exploringly, and far too softly for his preference. A harumph seemed somehow to escape him and she laughed and put more pressure on him. She seemed much more content with the sound he then made. The response from his body also seemed to please her as she arched her eyebrow at him.

Jack caressed her cheek and put a stray, damp lock behind her ear. That was something he had wanted to do more times than he could count, but it had never been his place. Now, suddenly it was; he was allowed to touch her. He laughed at himself for feeling a flutter in his chest when he was able to touch her cheek, while she was already caressing his cock. She had always been one step ahead. 

Leaving her cheek, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her in for another kiss. He couldn’t get enough of them. Every single one was as exhilarating as the last. This one was soft and sweet and lingering.

Phryne pulled back and looked at him appraisingly.

“I think I need you to make a security check, Inspector.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow; what was she up to now? 

“Can you please make sure there are no grains of sand left?”

He blinked one of his slow blinks, and then nodded. He released her from his embrace and bent down slightly to scrutinize her left breast, caressing its side with the back of his fingers. 

“Let’s see. I might have to do some testing to make sure.”

At that, he pulled her towards him so he could slowly kiss her breast again. First with feather light kisses, then again opening his mouth to catch as much of her peak as he could. She let out a shaky breath and settled her hands in his hair. He sucked at her, softly and then with more force, and licked at her tip with a flattened tongue before releasing her. 

“It all seems to be in order,” he reported, though he didn’t completely manage the casual tone he was aiming for.

“What luck,” Phryne said. She sounded cheerful and breathless at the same time. “But one can never be too thorough.”

He caught her drift and repeated the same action with her right breast, only lingering a little longer this time. He couldn’t stop a tiny moan from escaping his throat. 

“I agree,” he said when he’d found his voice again. “And if I’m not mistaken, there are more places that might need a thorough check.”

She crawled, smiling, onto the bed and lay down in front of him, stretching out her body and welcoming him in a manner half seductive and half innocent – the innocence just highlighting the seductiveness of the moment. 

“Please, take all measures necessary.”

He crawled onto the bed too, kneeling at her side and marvelling at the woman laying there in front of him. It was hard to believe this was happening. Jack decided to not immediately go where her teasing pointed him to, but first thoroughly checked several parts of her body. Her ankles and calves, which made her giggle and kick his chest. Her shoulders and neck, and it almost took the breath out of him when she turned her head to allow him better access. Her stomach. Her breasts again, because you couldn’t leave anything to chance. They were all proclaimed safe, even if she did ask for a second opinion concerning her stomach, while nestling her hand in his hair and tugging at him gently. He continued from her stomach to the tuft of hair below. She spread her legs a little and he did a short examination with his fingers, gently stroking her folds and sensing how ready she was for him, then dipping a finger in teasingly which elicited a delighted moan. 

“Very smooth. No sand detected,” he said and bent down to press a small kiss to her pubic hair. 

“There is no way you can have detected that already,” she complained, slightly breathless. “I demand a more thorough inspection, Inspector.”

He wondered how long she would keep on playing the game; a more daring version of the way they always danced around each other, played and teased. Not that he minded; it made is so much easier – to talk and tease and not drown in the seriousness of what they actually were doing, which he was trying hard not to think about too closely. He admired the way she made it all so playful, and it fuelled his desire for her even more.

“I think I could cope with that,” he replied with one of his half smiles. From his kneeling position by her side, he bent over her and gently spread her legs even further, sensing the dampness on her thighs. She assisted by angling her pelvis. Finally, he put his mouth on her. 

He was not used to doing things this way – so openly admitting to what he wanted, with the lights still on, and while talking. This had always been one of his favourite parts of love-making, but he had done it more stealthily, less deliberately. This way, and with Phryne, it surpassed all his former experiences of giving pleasure with his mouth. The way she responded – squirming, moaning, gasping. The way she tasted – salty, but a completely different saltiness than the sea water earlier. And the way she felt – he had never made a woman this wet and hot before, and it was intoxicating. 

He explored her, first shallowly, stroking her with his tongue, then more thoroughly. When he sucked at her nub, she made a moan that almost made him blush. When he entered her with his tongue, she groaned and let her hands caress his back and behind. When he put a finger inside her while licking, she grasped after him where he kneeled beside her, capturing his cock in her hand. It was only half hard, his focus so intently on her pleasure, but as she stroked and squeezed it, it quickly hardened and he groaned involuntary into her cunt.

He lifted his head from her wetness and eyed her. She looked rather like a contented cat, if a cat could smile that lasciviously. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Miss Fisher. I haven’t been in this situation for quite some time, and I fear I cannot hold back for too long.”

“No matter,” she said. “There are many ways to make love, and I adore your tongue.”

She made him turn over so he was on his back, then positioned herself head to foot with him. She straddled his mouth teasingly, and stroked his stomach and thighs, first softly, then adding enough bite with her nails to make him hiss. Finally, she stroked his full length from the root and up. She bent down to kiss it with feather light kisses, dipping her tongue into his small opening, which made him squirm beneath her. When she was satisfied with her teasing, she took him into her mouth. First the crown, which she paid considerable attention to, then swallowing him as far as she could before letting him out again, just to repeat her actions. He was fascinated with the way she hummed around him, so obviously enjoying the act, and he was overwhelmed enough to forget his own task until she stopped and shot a glance his way. 

He decided to try to make her come at the same time he did. He put an arm around her hip and pulled her down to his mouth, again revelling in the overpowering heat and scent of her. He worked her with both fingers and tongue, tasting and sucking and prodding, faster and faster, kneading her behind with his free hand to increase the sensation. She moaned around him, and he didn’t succeed; he came before her. It was breathtaking and incredibly satisfying, feeling her mouth surround him in the moment of culmination, her lips’ caresses both soft and firm. As she wasn’t done he kept his mouth busy until she too shouted and turned limp. He hoped he would get the chance to try to improve on it.


	2. Chapter 2

_It is rather hard work:_  
_there is now no smooth road into the future:_  
_but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles._

 

She cleaned herself off briefly, leaving the bathroom for him to wash his face, and then she snuggled under the covers beside him. 

“Did we...” he began, but paused. “What is…”

“I feel thoroughly inspected, Inspector,” she answered decisively. 

He believed her. Considering the... enthusiasm with which he had touched her in the end, she ought to feel rather sated for now. That wasn’t his question. He was more concerned about what this sudden development would mean for them both, and how they should behave for it not to go to hell. This was not something he usually did. He had no idea about the continuation. 

Before he could fret more about it, he felt sleep taking over. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt sleepy in such a comfortable way: heavy as a rock from his culmination, and light as a balloon from all the emotions swelling in his breast. Phryne traced her finger over his chest, following her hand with her eyes, drinking him in in such an openly admiring way. Once she scraped his nipple, which made him flinch, and after that she took care to round his pink spots instead. 

The thought that he ought to go back to his own bedroom, so that noone would notice what had happened, evaporated and he slipped out of consciousness. He had no sense of how long Phryne stayed awake, only that she caressed him to sleep.

The next morning, he awoke with a joint feeling of happiness and dread. It was very early. She was still asleep, one leg spread over his body, reminding him of how unused he was to sharing a bed with someone, and of how much he enjoyed it. He loved the feeling of her skin against his, even as her closeness made his skin slightly clammy. He watched her – openly, greedily, as nobody was there to observe him – and he doubted there was anything on earth more beautiful than Phryne in the morning light. 

He also couldn’t see how he would be able to continue from here. How could he – they – scramble on? How could a story continue that started with him, despite knowing better, making love to the charming freight train usually known as Miss Fisher?

He felt mortified, thinking about how he would have to breakfast downstairs with her aunt and young Jane, and continue to work on the case without betraying what had happened with a single look or indulgent touch. How could he rebuild the walls that had crumbled so thoroughly the night before?

The first thing he could do, he decided, was extricate himself from her embrace and leave for his own bedroom. But it proved he couldn’t. When he tried to gently remove her leg, she held it fast and opened her eyes to look at him sternly. She seemed to go from asleep to fully conscious in a moment’s time. 

“Don’t go, Jack,” she whispered. 

She raised her head to kiss him, and like everything she did, she did it thoroughly. His dread abated; there was only room for the sensation of catching fire. He responded to her deepening kiss, relishing the sensation of her tongue, willing to let her kiss him to death if that was her intention. He groaned and she smiled into the kiss, trailing her hand down his chest and his stomach until she could put it on his cock, which had already hardened against the pressure of her lingering thigh. She knew exactly how to capture him. In contrast to the night’s gentle exploration, he felt more desperate in the morning, as if he needed to quell his beginning fears. He turned so he was half over her, kissing her deeply and letting his hand roam over the softness of her body, pressing himself to her. She obviously enjoyed his urgency, moaning into his mouth as he kissed her so relentlessly.

She pushed at him so she could make him lie down on his back as they kept on kissing. The movement made him hot in anticipation. She broke off and they looked at each other, all fiery eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips.

“Don’t move an inch,” she said, and left him. 

He didn’t dare to move, afraid to break the spell. She took a small thing from her nightstand and brought it with her to the bathroom. Coming back, lithe as a cat, she straddled him. She kissed him deeply as she took his length in hand and made him even harder. Gently, she touched his tip to her wet folds, continuing her caresses, then she sat up straighter and took him in. 

He gasped from the suddenness, exclaiming her name and taking hold of her hips in an attempt to influence the pace; she went furiously fast, and he managed to slow her down. Finally they found a satisfying compromise, and as she moved above him, she didn’t look away from his eyes for one second. She seemed to want to devour him, with her sex and her eyes, and he found he didn’t mind being ravaged. 

The heat coiled in his gut and built a desire that felt too large for his body to uphold. It was such a powerful moment he felt this would forever be his mental image of the word ‘sex’. He reached up one hand to caress her. She was glorious rising above him: beautiful, and so intense he thought he might combust from her gaze. Instead, he came, so suddenly it surprised him. This time, though, if he could read her properly, she had come just before him, as she’d clenched and moved more erratically. She crashed down over him without any pretence at elegance. He held her fast in a tight hug, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, her breath in his ear, before he let her go so she could slide to his side. 

As she laid down beside him, he turned a little so he could caress her hair and cheek. God, how he loved to be able to caress her, to just lightly touch her face, to sweep his thumb over her lips. It made his heart clench. Would he be allowed to do that again, or was this his only chance? His body felt like lead, he felt like he would never be able to move again in his life, but the thoughts of what this would mean to them soon clawed for his attention again.

He looked her in the eyes, his hand still on her cheek.

“I don’t know how to continue from this,” he said, softly. “I don’t know how to be with you, or how to be without you.” 

“I know,” she answered, and the same sadness he felt in his gut, he could hear in her voice.

 

***

 

_We’ve got to live,  
no matter how many skies have fallen._

 

He left her bedroom shortly after, his arms full of clothes slightly stiff from the salt water. When they met again later in the dining room, he was the one who was stiff, but he had no chance to keep it up. Phryne showed him the alcohol Mrs McNaster had hidden in her cupboard, and the sleuthing was on. They found the bodies of the poor servants, they scared the smugglers to turn on each other, and they enjoyed a lovely moment beneath the pier, not too far from where they had kissed after their unexpected swim, eating some fish and chips and waiting for the case to unfold above their heads. When he smiled at her as she teased him, it was a full, happy smile, despite all the complications they were facing. 

Finally, Phryne had managed to knock down Gerald, the murderer, as he lunged at her with a knife, and Aunt Prudence had shown how big her heart really was by staying on with Mrs McNaster. The case was solved. The only thing unsolved seemed to be the case of the two detectives. 

They had talked about it – no, talk was a far too straightforward word for what they had done. They had hinted at it. Phryne had made a suggestive comment or two, Jack had... to be honest, he had displayed his tortoise-like nature and retreated into his own shell when he feared she would turn him down. He wasn’t proud of that behaviour, but it seemed to be his best survival instinct. 

He couldn’t regret what they had done; it was the most life-affirming night he had had in years. Just thinking about it, about her, made him feel like his gut turned to liquid. But he also regretted it intensely, for making him know far too much what he had almost had, what he had managed to grasp for a very short time, and what he would probably never have again. Phryne Fisher loved him. He knew that. But not in that earth-shattering way where she would give everything up for him. She loved him the way where you are sad to part, but can also rather easily survive it. She loved him as a friend, and a little bit more, certainly more than her usual bedpartners. 

At least that is what he had concluded from what they hadn’t properly said. As for himself, he knew he loved her more than that, that he loved her rather intensely. But he also knew it might still not be enough. Not enough to make the decision to turn his whole life upside down. Not enough to combat all propriety and give up everything he had ever built. Maybe it just wasn’t enough.

Queenscliff was one thing, a free haven where you could be a slightly different person. Queenscliff was beaches and summer and leisure and a house where they both were guests. Queenscliff was what he had started to think of as a several-days-long date. Melbourne was something completely different.

When they were back in Melbourne again, she asked him to stay for a nightcap. Where else but in her beautiful parlour could they pick themselves up again, slot back into their normal lives and their normal way of dancing around each other? She flirted with him in the way that meant _See, we can do this. We can still be friends and partners._ And he accepted it, with a slightly aloof smile and his eloquent eyes; he accepted their relationship for what it was. 

They were friends, and partners, and they were a little bit more. But as much as it had felt like the skies had fallen over him, like all his walls had crumbled to dust, he knew the world was much the same. He had his boundaries; he had his life and his habits; he could rebuild those walls. He enjoyed her company. These were his thoughts when they clinked glasses and drank her excellent whisky. He enjoyed it, but was he even sure he would want to have it all the time? 

Sometimes at night, his dream self would laugh at him and accuse him of being hopeless and fooling himself thoroughly. But mostly, he felt he had his life sorted. He flirted with Phryne at fashion shows and football matches, perhaps a bit more freely than before, because he felt they already knew where they had each other, and he was safe. He felt safe. 

Until one day, when there was a poorly relayed message, telling him that Miss Fisher had died in a car accident.

**Author's Note:**

> _Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> D.H. Lawrence, _Lady Chatterley’s Lover_
> 
> A big thank you to sarahtoo for pre-reading!


End file.
